Chapter 765: Contrast

Liu Chengzong was just bragging.

If he had a shred of sense, he wouldn't dare enter Beijing.

A thing as insanely complex and maxed-out on aggression as the Marshal's Manor needs an enemy at this stage.

Otherwise, the demons and monsters under his command would be at each other's throats within two days without an external threat.

Sending someone to deliver heads to the Ji Garrison border troops, and taunting Qian Shisheng — it was really just to have Qian Shisheng go back and pass on a message.

Tell the Chongzhen Emperor: the bounty for Eastern Slave heads — if you have the money, you must pay it; if you don't, find a way to scrape it together and pay it anyway, and pay as much as possible.

As for saying he gave reward money to the border troops, that was pure nonsense from Zhang Yuanheng going to see Cao Huachun.

Liu Chengzong was certainly not going to hand out money.

Was he sick in the head, spending real gold and silver just to disgust people? Bragging was enough.

Liu the Lion was simply certain that the Ming sovereign and ministers dared not call the bluff — no matter how many heads he tossed at the border troops, the court would find a way to pay the bounty.

At most, they'd nitpick the heads: this one's shape is substandard, that one's back molars didn't grow from gnawing bones, finding a pile of excuses to pay out a bit less.

But that meant nothing to Liu the Lion; he didn't care how much money the Ji Garrison border troops actually received.

This was really just a fallback plan — after all, him personally bringing heads to collect a reward from the Chongzhen Emperor was unlikely to happen, and would also diminish his own prestige.

But since He Huchen and Li Hongsi had chopped off so many heads, they had to be of some use, so Liu the Lion began practicing the art of war: manipulate the enemy, do not let the enemy manipulate you.

By stirring up the Chongzhen Emperor and the Ming court officials, making them throw money into useless places, his objective was achieved.

The Ming dynasty's money was finite — all budgets and deficits. Every extra tael of silver thrown at Ji Garrison was one less tael thrown at Henan and Huguang.

After this campaign, the situation in the north had completely changed.

With the completion of Songmo Prefectural City, the easiest route through the Khingan Mountains was blocked.

From now on, the Later Jin would find it extremely difficult to bypass and attack the Ming, which meant the Ji Garrison–Xuan–Da defense line would henceforth be guarding against him.

But that was useless — Tong Pass was in his hands, and the Marshal's Army advancing east had no need to detour through the desert south.

So using the heads taken in the Lingdong campaign to force the Ming to sink part of this year's budget into the Ji Garrison defense line was very necessary.

The battle was over, the inscriptions stamped.

As the army drew closer to Ji Garrison, both Liu Chengzong and Qian Shisheng fell silent, each carrying a somewhat troubled look.

Liu Chengzong wanted to keep him but wouldn't; Qian Shisheng didn't want to leave but had to.

Strange, when you thought about it.

When he first arrived, Qian Shisheng had looked down on every single thing about the Marshal's Manor — he truly felt he had entered a savage world.

Calling everyone around him barbarians was putting it kindly; each and every one was a pure demon or monster.

In his sixty years of life, Qian Shisheng had never seen a scene like this: rebels massed together, deserters everywhere, horse bandits in swarms, thugs in gangs.

All madmen whose eyes lit up at the mention of murder and arson.

People spoke in Shaanxi accents he was unfamiliar with, their speech tones seemingly carrying loess dust — especially that Zhang Xianzhong, clearly a killer, barely able to recognize common characters, yet calling himself "Minister" at every turn, a monkey in a cap, utterly ridiculous.

Of course, the contempt over accents was mutual; in the eyes of the vast majority of the Marshal's Army, this old man Qian Shisheng, full of court Mandarin with occasional Wu-dialect bird-chirps thrown in, was a rare freak as well.

Even Liu Chengzong, Qian Shisheng had once believed, stood out among the rebels by virtue of a licentiate's learning and his background from a minor official-landlord family.

Because aside from a minor xiucai like Liu Chengzong, everyone else in the Marshal's Army was, to Qian Shisheng, part of a marginal group he had never encountered in the past sixty years.

Qian Shisheng had the right to be proud — in over two hundred years of the Ming dynasty, there had been only eighty Principal Graduates like him.

He and the Marshal's Army crowd were inherently two extremes, the righteous path versus the crooked road, each viewing the other with enormous prejudice.

And their first meeting had indeed been less than friendly; both sides' conduct fit the other's stereotype perfectly — the Marshal's Army fierce and savage, Qian Shisheng rigid and blunt.

But ability and victory can overturn all prejudice.

Qian Shisheng's erudition brought immense shock to the illiterates of the Marshal's Army.

The Marshal's Army's prowess in battle likewise gave Qian Shisheng an unprecedented thrill.

Once he set aside his bias, Qian Shisheng saw the other side of the Marshal's Army beneath their desperado-like ferocity and combat skill.

This army was absolutely not a band of desperate outlaws; its commander Liu Chengzong did not even have his own personal soldier-attendants, cook, or servants.

On the battlefield, he was just like the soldiers on the front line, stuffing parched flour and dried meat into his mouth at every moment; when encamped, at least one meal a day he'd carry his bowl down through the camp, plop down beside any random squad, and scrounge food and drink.

Instead, two mess soldiers had been specially assigned from the camp to cook for Qian Shisheng, trying their best to give him two hot meals.

Liu Chengzong's life was austere, and the army's life was harsh too — on the march they trudged long distances on their own two legs, and when necessary people even slept on their riding horses and mules, yet they were very good at finding joy amidst hardship.

In fact, Qian Shisheng found it hard to see any sign that those Shaanxi toughs felt they were enduring hardship.

As his view shifted and he understood this group more deeply, he realized that the courteous and refined Liu Chengzong's rule was not built on learning, but on the fact that this man had never lost a battle, had once single-handedly cut his way through Yan'an Prefecture city, and when ambushed at a banquet, had simply body-slammed the assassin to death.

On the other hand, the fierce-looking Zhang Xianzhong was a steady, intelligent, and studious official who had only gone astray due to the hardships of life.

Of course, this was really just the result of Grand Secretary Qian taking off one pair of tinted glasses, and then, after the Marshal's Army defeated the Daiching, putting on another pair.

His clever brain would automatically ascribe rationality to everything this Marshal's Army crowd did.

For example, when Zhang Xianzhong left the column for half a shichen at Liaoyang and left black smoke blanketing the land, Qian Shisheng interpreted the murder and arson as an accidental extreme case of vengeance.

In reality, the docile and obedient appearance of Zhang Xianzhong and everyone else around Liu Chengzong was the accident.

Without Liu Chengzong, if Old Zhang went out for five minutes and only killed eight people, that would be considered an off day, not bringing enough blades.

Because only Liu Chengzong could provide these people — who had lost everything in the drought and were like terrified, trapped beasts — with a familiar, safe environment akin to pre-war times, soothing their scarred spirits so they no longer had to face the hopeless terror of imminent death at every moment.

To be honest, although the Marshal's Manor people were mostly rough folk, Qian Shisheng could feel... he was more respected here than at court.

Although in terms of governance, Liu Chengzong was very similar to the Chongzhen Emperor — neither would heed his counsel.

But the two men's outward expressions were different.

The feeling the Chongzhen Emperor gave Qian Shisheng was... powerlessness.

The Emperor would think all of Qian Shisheng's suggestions were correct and excellent, grow greatly excited, and promote him with rewards.

But the Ming court had too many voices, and the Emperor was not resolute enough; any strategy, without needing other voices, he would question it in his own heart.

Even the court's men of insight dared only use three-tenths of their ability out of ten.

Because no matter who proposed a strategy, the feeling was unmistakably clear: this thing could be done, yet this thing would not get done.

The emperor's resolve would waver; the state's major policies would change overnight. Even if the strategy offered was correct, the moment it hit a snag halfway through execution — or perhaps even without hitting a snag — the support behind it would falter, ultimately leading to failure.

And the blame for failure would never fall on the court or the emperor; it could only be the fault of the one who proposed the strategy and the one who executed it.

Conversely, the failure would prove your talent was insufficient and your suggestion was wrong.

Even if there was someone above to take the fall, and you were merely a subordinate doing the work, you still wouldn't dare pour all your energy into charging ahead.

You spend your own effort, expend resources, bury your head in the work — what if the court's winds shift halfway through? Even grand coordinators and governors can't be sure of their position from morning to night; what does a nobody like you even count for?

Dalinghe was a perfect example: the court placed both a grand coordinator and a governor side by side at the front. One moment they approved building the fortress, the next they ordered construction halted, then they said to deliberate further — so that at the wrong time, with the wrong army, at the wrong place, the enemy seized the chance and hammered them hard.

And who got blamed in the end? Sun Chengzong, who had been working earnestly at the front, went home.

So much so that the Chongzhen reign produced a very strange situation: worthy men stayed in the wilderness.

Some capable men, after a lifetime of study, passed the provincial exam or even the palace exam, yet were actually unwilling to take office, turning around to go into trade instead.

High officials retired the moment they reached the age, and if they hadn't reached retirement age, they'd create an excuse to retire on medical grounds. When work ran into difficulties, they'd resign if they could — even if the price was being stripped of all rank to commoner status, they'd gladly go home and teach.

People no longer even loved power.

And Liu Chengzong was the other extreme from a tyrant.

In daily life, he kept "elder brother" and "senior" always on his lips, elevating people extremely high, but in matters of will he was resolute and decisive, brooking no doubt whatsoever.

Likewise, he had no notion of evading responsibility. In fact, during all the days Qian Shisheng had accompanied the army, he had never once seen Liu Chengzong punish a general or officer — yet this produced an extraordinary other side to the Marshal's Army.

In the Battle of Shengjing, Subadi suffered defeat outside the city and relied on He Huchen to cover his withdrawal beyond the border. He returned to beg Liu Chengzong for punishment.

Qian Shisheng was right there beside him at the time. Liu Chengzong actually said: This was not elder brother's fault, but my own failure to anticipate how quickly the Eight Banners would return in relief.

When the Black Banner camp rioted at night and the whole army was thrown into turmoil in the darkness, the two newly surrendered generals Dudu and Li Yangeng were terrified to death. Liu Chengzong again took the blame onto his own shoulders, saying it was his poor consideration that had left the soldiers overly exhausted, and the next day he even gave the Black Banner extra rations.

Of course, while giving the soldiers extra rations, Liu Chengzong also took the opportunity of testing martial skills on the earthen slope outside the Black Banner camp to beat up both Li Yangeng and Dudu. Qian Shisheng saw that too.

What Qian Shisheng saw was not Liu Chengzong boldly shouldering blame and spoiling his generals.

What he saw was that Liu Chengzong was so supremely confident that he had no fear of his own mistakes, and even less fear that shielding his officers would damage his own prestige.

This man carried an inherent heroic spirit about him.

It told everyone, plainly and clearly: follow me, and you're allowed to make mistakes. Even if you're wrong, I can still lead you to victory and keep you alive. Every fault lies in my having overestimated your ability.

Such immense pride made others feel ashamed and humbled by their own inadequacy.

So much so that the temperament of the Marshal's Manor was the complete opposite of the Great Ming… they all dared to act, feared no mistake, and were even terrified that doing too little and falling short of others would bring humiliation upon Liu Chengzong and cause them to lose their own power and position.

To be honest, Qian Shisheng was absolutely certain that this was a spirit the Chongzhen Emperor could not learn, and must not learn.

If he learned it, things would only fall apart faster, creating a flock of fierce ministers, overbearing officials, and regional warlords, causing imperial authority to slip away.

Because Liu Chengzong could, with one call, draw ten thousand responses from the army he himself had built. He could effortlessly slam an assassin to death with a shoulder strike, best every military officer in martial competition, and personally devise strategies on the battlefield to win victory after victory.

No matter how arrogant and fierce a man might be, if he couldn't beat Liu Chengzong in the training ground, couldn't command his army on the battlefield, and had no qualification to face him in formation — with one mortal enemy after another outside — what could he do but bow his head and obey orders?

There was no other way.

Qian Shisheng truly did not want to go back.

If earlier, Liu Chengzong and the Marshal's Manor's status as rebels had still stirred revulsion in his heart,

then after Liu Chengzong defeated Daqing's sixty-thousand-strong army with thirty thousand troops and carved a record of the achievement in stone on the Xing'an Range, Qian Shisheng had already stopped seeing Liu Chengzong as a rebel chieftain from the bottom of his heart.

This was the foremost hero under heaven. Compared to him, that child inside the Forbidden City did not possess the faintest wisp of dragon aura!

On this diplomatic mission, had he been twenty years younger, he certainly would not have gone back.

But he was already sixty-one, with children and grandchildren filling the hall. His younger brother Qian Shijin had died of illness the previous year while serving as governor of Yunnan, leaving two nephews who also needed his care.

He was not his own master; he had to return to the court.

Yet in his heart, he could not help harboring some resentment toward Liu Chengzong: whether this old man goes back is one thing, but couldn't you at least open your mouth and ask me to stay?

Liu Chengzong not only had no intention of asking him to stay, but had proactively brought it up several times — Grand Secretary Qian must prepare to return, this and that.

It made Qian Shisheng feel… a great loss of face.

No one knew what Liu Chengzong was thinking. On the road to the border beyond Ji Garrison, he remained very silent, only occasionally thinking of something and giving a few instructions to Liu Tichun.

Until they drew near the border beyond Ji Garrison and made contact with Gao Qiqian, the Guan-Ning General Supervisor stationed inside the border, exchanging messages to negotiate the time for sending Qian Shisheng across the border.

They camped for the night.

Qian Shisheng was packing his things, and there were quite a lot to take.

The notes he had written these days, the stone-carved inscriptions, the accounts of the campaigns, various documents to be returned to the emperor upon reaching the court, and the bow, saber, and armor Liu Chengzong had casually given him during the Liaodong campaign.

And of course, the parting gifts he had prepared for Liu Chengzong, Zhang Xianzhong, and the others.

For Liu Chengzong, it was his palace examination policy essay from the year he earned top scholar, written from memory.

And for Zhang Xianzhong, it was his experience in compiling the veritable records of two reigns.

The Minister of Rites had always wanted this.

Just as he was packing, Liu Chengzong arrived at Qian Shisheng's tent, carrying camel milk wine and followed by Zuo Liangyu and other attendants.

"Grand Secretary Qian, please sit."

To be honest, Liu Chengzong showing up unannounced at this moment was a bit alarming, and carrying wine at that — everyone knew he didn't drink. Was this poison, a way of saying he didn't want this old man going back alive, or what?

"In our recent dealings, this junior has come to deeply admire the Grand Secretary's talent and learning. It is only that Chengzong's strength is too meager to shelter the Grand Secretary's entire clan, and so I have no face to urge you to stay. Now that parting is imminent, my heart is truly pained… I can only prepare some travel funds and gifts for the Grand Secretary to use on his return to the capital."

As he spoke, Liu Chengzong gestured, and attendants brought over three identical small chests, along with a sable coat.

Truth be told, although Liu Chengzong had prepared this gift himself, seeing a sable coat in summer made even him want to laugh.

The three small chests were opened; inside each were neatly arranged gold bars. The first two chests held thirty bars each, and the last chest held fifty bars.

"The sable coat cannot be worn in summer. The capital's winters are bitter cold, and being out on campaign, I had nothing else prepared as a new coat. This one is my own, given to the Grand Secretary as a keepsake. With this parting, high mountains and long waters lie between us — who knows if we shall meet again. Should the Grand Secretary have a moment of leisure, let this serve as a reminder of the man when you see the object."

"This chest of gold bars — I must trouble the Grand Secretary to deliver it to His Majesty on my behalf; it is a local specialty of Liaodong. This chest of gold bars is for the Grand Secretary as travel expenses — Chengzong fought shoulder to shoulder with the Grand Secretary, and those who witness the spoils get a share. As for this last chest, it holds fifty bars."

Liu Chengzong had been smiling as he spoke earlier, but when he reached the last chest, his expression turned solemn: "This chest, I ask the Grand Secretary to use on my behalf upon returning to the capital, to secure the release of the prisoner Qiu Lei, currently held in the Ministry of Justice's prison, and send him to me."

Zuo Liangyu, standing in attendance at his side, stood frozen to the spot as if struck by lightning. He had known absolutely nothing of this beforehand. His knees buckled and he prostrated himself on the ground, kowtowing in gratitude. When he raised his head, his face was already streaming with tears!

?? Good evening!

? (End of chapter)